


Jack Murdock, age 34, and Matt Murdock, age 9 and age 29

by a_silver_sun



Series: The Time Traveler of Hell's Kitchen [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, Remix, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-19 02:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_silver_sun/pseuds/a_silver_sun
Summary: While taking a much needed coffee break after admitting his boy to the hospital, Jack Murdock meets an emotionally vulnerable young man.OrTime Traveler Matt visits his dad.This is sort of an au of an au, or remix if you want to call it that. It Does Not take place within the main Always Crashing continuity.





	Jack Murdock, age 34, and Matt Murdock, age 9 and age 29

*

“Mr. Uh. Mr. Murdock?”

Jack wasn't entirely surprised when the kid approached him at the condiments counter. He just had that air about him, like he was waiting specifically for him. Maybe the kid was a boxing fan. Battlin' Jack Murdock was a familiar name and a familiar face around the Kitchen, though he wasn't exactly a fan favorite. He lost more matches than he could count, but he was a local fixture around town and some folks took a strange sense of pride in that.

“You got him,” he said. He set down the small paper bag containing the blueberry muffin he'd picked out for Matty and tended to his coffee. Opened up sugar packets and stirred in creamer. The kid was obviously nervous as he waited Jack out, shuffling awkwardly on his feet and avoiding eye contact. He wasn't sure what to make of it, so he shrugged his shoulders and thought 'fuck it.' The least he could do was to hear the kid out.

“I’d like to, uh. I’d like to talk to you. About your son. If that's okay.” Well, that sure got his attention. Jack made a hasty attempt at cleaning up his mess; tossing his empty sugar packets and his wooden coffee stirrer into the overfilled trash can next to the counter. Then he took a long moment to size the kid up. The kid, well, the young man--Jack didn’t know why he kept thinking of someone his own age as a kid--he wasn't a doctor or a nurse or something of that sort. Not in that get-up. Kid was wearing what looked like a woman's floral blouse and sweatpants large enough to swim in. Sockless feet shoved into filthy shoes at least two sizes too small for him. Jack vaguely wondered if the kid had stolen these clothes from somewhere. Fished them out of a donation bin or something. Maybe he was homeless and had come in from off the street for a cheap cup of coffee and a warm place to rest.

What could someone like that possibly know about his Matty?

“What do you know about my Matty?”

But before the kid could answer, a woman interrupted him with a firm but polite, “excuse me.” And Jack realized then that the two of them had been rudely blocking access to the coffee counter. So he offered her a tender smile, his sincerest apology, and a self-deprecating comment about the dangerous mix of worry and fatigue. Hospital brain-fog, he called it. She smiled at him sympathetically and told him she knew exactly what he meant; she was a parent, too. Reckless teen with a fractured leg. Kid might be kind of an idiot, but she’d live.

"I'm prayin' for her," he said. She gave him a pained expression, and a heart-felt thanks.

"I hope your son gets better, too." And just as Jack was giving her his thanks, the kid nodded sharply at her. Like what she had just said meant something to him. Then she left to go find a seat and Jack suggested they should do the same.

There was a table tucked away in the far corner, and as they headed toward it, the young man trailed closely behind like a duckling afraid of losing his way.

Before taking his seat though, Jack reached into a pocket to pull out a napkin. Gave the tabletop a quick wipedown. Whoever sat here last left quite the mess of cracker crumbs and spilled milk. It reminded him of when Matty was small; packed lunches and afternoons at the museum.

Through a self-conscious chuckle he said, “pocket’s always full of these things,” referring to the napkin crumpled up in his hand. “Probably multiplyin' in there like rabbits, huh?”

As far as jokes went, he knew it had been a pretty bad one. But it should have a earned him something, right? A polite smile at least? Kid sure didn't seem to think so. He just nodded at Jack solemnly, as if he had just revealed something profound. All right. So the kid was a bit of an odd duck.

Remembering that the kid was maybe homeless, and likely hungry, he offered him the waxed paper bag holding Matty's blueberry muffin. “I picked this up for my kid, but you can have it if you want. I can grab him another one on my way back. No big deal.”

Kid nodded again with a quick, jerking movement. Then his entire mouth quivered; his throat did too.

“Yeah, yeah,” the guy finally managed. His face was red, bright red, and his eyes were huge and glossy. He still refused to make eye contact with him, but Jack didn’t think it was a lack of manners or anything like that. The kid could have just been the awkward type. Sometimes that was just how people were. “Thanks.”

“So, kid." Jack sipped his coffee. "You got a name?”

“Yeah. Um.” His eyebrows furrowed, like he had to really think about his answer. “Jackson.”

“Jackson. Okay, well. Nice to meet you, Jackson.”

Jackson nodded again. Swallowed and licked his lips. “I uh.” He gestured toward him and cleared his throat. "Sorry," he muttered, though Jack didn't know what for.

He was clearly having a tough time gathering up the courage to speak his mind, so Jack, remembering the kid had approached him in the first place to talk about Matty had said, “he’s a good kid, my Matty. Smart. Smarter than his old man, let me tell you. Though maybe he ain't so smart after all, considering what happened today. Brave, though. Bravest kid I ever met. Geez, can you imagine? I mean, I'm scared shitless, the way he's screamin' down there and everything, but I'm real proud of him, too. I really am."

Something made Jack stop and look up just then, and when he did, he saw the kid openly crying. Tears absolutely poured down his face, though he made no move to cover them up or to wipe them away. It was heartbreaking to watch. "Hey, hey," he said and had to stop himself from saying "none of that now." It wan't his place. So he fished out one of the many napkins crumpled up in his jacket pocket, and handed it over to the kid. Kid--Jackson--nodded vaguely at him, mumbled out his obligatory ‘thank you’ and blew his nose. But Jack wasn't sure what to make of the whole thing. He couldn't explain it, but the kid didn't move his head the way a normal person would. Kid never looked up toward Jack or watch his own movements to see what he was doing. Holy shit, he wanted to say, because Jack realized then that the kid sitting across from him hadn’t been avoiding eye contact because he was nervous or rude, or some kind of awkward weirdo. No, he just couldn’t see. That was all. Maybe this was a glimpse into the future; maybe this would be Matt in twenty years time. (The doctors, they wouldn’t come right out and say it, but they told Jack they wanted to ‘keep him under observation’ for a few days. See if anything improved. But. Jack knew. In his gut he knew. His Matty would never see again. He counted his blessings though, because he knew this could have ended up a whole lot worse; at least his Matty survived that accident.)

The kid took a long moment to gather himself. Carefully placed the napkin down onto the table's surface once he realized he was picking at it and tearing it to shreds. Leaning forward in his seat, he said, "he’s going to be fine, your son.”And Jack found it odd how the kid made everything he said sound like a question. As if he doubted his own sincerity. _He’s going to be fine?_ But for whatever reason, Jack believed him. He couldn’t explain how or why, but he did. “He’s got a good,” and then the kid fought back another round of tears, “he’s got a great dad, and he uh. He--”

The kid's entire face crumbled, and he swore under his breath. Knocked over his chair as he scrambled up to his feet. “Shit, it's. Uh. It's time to go.” He was panicky and upset, and sweating profusely. Unsteady on his feet like he'd been hit with a sudden dizzy spell, or a migraine or something. It wasn't any of Jack's business, but this was a hospital, and it was possible he was here because of a health problem.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the uneaten blueberry muffin at him. “Go on, take it. It’s yours.”

“I can’t… I can’t take anything with me, but. Thank you.”

Then the kid threw himself at him. Wrapped his arms around him like he was drowning, and Jack his only anchor. He would never be able to explain it, not in a million years, but he reciprocated fully, and it wasn't weird or uncomfortable to hug a complete stranger under the harsh lights of a busy cafeteria. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah,” the kid said after he'd untangled himself from Jack's arms. “He is. He's gonna be fine. You'll see. But. I'm not gonna lie; it's going to be real hard for him, for a real long time.” The kid seemed to lose his footing for a second, then shook his head. He looked so sad, and inexplicably, Jack felt sad, too. “Sorry,” kid muttered. “It's time to go.” Then Jack found himself standing alone in a busy and crowded cafeteria, watching as a strange young man bee-lined it to the men’s room.

There was no way to know if he would ever see the kid again, but he hoped he would.

But before leaving the cafeteria, he got back in line to buy a second blueberry muffin. Poor Matty was under such heavy sedation, but maybe when the kid woke up the two of them could eat their muffins together.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! <3
> 
> come say hello on tumblr! [a-silver-sun](https://a-silver-sun.tumblr.com/)


End file.
